


Working In The Shadows.

by KingMattie (KingAnduin)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mild Language, Some dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-07-22 19:57:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7452061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingAnduin/pseuds/KingMattie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strike-Commander Jack Morrison suddenly gets wind of the plot to take him, and Overwatch down. In a drastic measure, Morrison decides to fake his own death and stop the plot personally. His friend Gabriel Reyes takes up as the new Strike-Commander in his place and is determined to get payback for Jack, not knowing he’s actually still alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> Technically De-Anoning myself here, but oh well! This was spawned from an idea on Tumblr wherein Jack figures things out before shit goes down and takes matters into his own hands.

Faking his death probably shouldn't have been easy as it had been. But it was the only option that came to mind when he learned about something very unsettling. There was a plot to kill him, or at least get him out of the picture, in the works.

Strange to think it started as a normal day. Until he _noticed_ some things.

How he was watched was one of them, and no, not the security cameras, but actual persons. Some eyes were just a bit too sharp for his liking. The kind of sharp that was usually followed by death.

He'd know.

Then later, after catching wind of even more little things, he found the jackpot.

An open computer, in Gabe's section of the main building. Not the man himself, though, he was off preparing something or some mission that he wasn't told about until after it was over.

Messages were being sent on very, _very_ secured channels. Jack could hardly believe his eyes as he scrolled, keeping an eye on the doors. No cameras here. A coup was in the making. Details about his schedule were marked with times and areas. As well as things like his training, his weapon, and his enrollment in the SEP.

Notes in the margins told of good times for an ambush, even a time for planting explosives _holy shit._

He had all but ran out back to his rooms. He'd paced for some time, clawing his hair out trying to think of what to do. Telling someone was out of the question, it was obvious now that there were more spies and infiltrators in their ranks.

How had he missed all of this? Was he really that... ignorant?

As far as it looked, he'd had two options. Leave, fake his demise to stop their plans. Or stay and do what he can from his position.

He chose the former. As Strike-Commander he led so many people into battle, sent them to it. If he had a chance to save even one life by just disappearing, he'd do it. Overwatch would survive without him.

So he did.

The next time he was in the field, to the world, Jack Morrison died suddenly on that mission. His body could not be recovered.

He then vanished into anonymity, tending to his wounds and preparing his plans. It would not be an easy fight to handle alone, but he was a soldier first and foremost.  
He was free to go after those he knew for certain had something to do with all of the corruption.

The first thing he did was gather his equipment, his rifle he kept, though he changed much of it. Grenades, ammunition, and BiFs were next. It took some careful maneuvering to get the last ones. He'd nearly been caught.

On the bright side, he found a new visor to replace the one that he destroyed. This one however also came with a mask. Even better to hide his identity with. He grew used to having it nearly on his face all the time, if only out of some paranoia.

News of his death spread like a wildfire, for the first year, it was all he saw in the news really. And Gabriel. God, he had never hated himself more than he did when he saw his friends' distraught features on the screens as he spoke some words Jack couldn't hear. The man had been promoted to Strike-Commander, taking his place.

It was like a punch in the gut, every time he saw it.

Gabriel didn't waste time, he went right after his supposed killers. Overwatch as a whole was pretty much frozen for a time after Jack Morrison died, shocked and saddened by the loss.

It got easy to turn his head after a while. Disassociating himself from his former friends and that life he held. The scars on his face helped and so did the headgear. During the year he'd also found a jacket, which the media used to give him his new name.

Soldier: 76.


	2. A Man On A Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Right into the action.

If there's one thing he couldn't stand, it was snipers. Amari aside, they were annoying to deal with. Sitting in their nests up high, eyes peeled and scope aimed down at any unsuspecting prey. Like him, only he could see them. His visor highlighted them helpfully on his HUD. There were two, maybe three.

His trigger finger twitched. _Talon_. Jack wanted to run right in and start shooting, but he needed to lay low. Well, lower than he had been. Overwatch was starting to take notice, and he'd rather not have to run into them on a mission. He already had a bounty, but attention from them? It wouldn't end well.

He crouched low and started moving, the cover of the night helped hide him better as he ducked around corners. It was easier now to be stealthy, though Jack usually wasn't that kind of person, it suited Gabriel better for the most part. But practice makes perfect, as they say.

"---Check out the perimeter while you're at it." He halted at the voice, enhanced hearing pinpointing it to just on the other side of the alley, right near the door where he would get into the building from. Sure enough, boots thumped in his direction. He grimaced and strapped his rifle to his back. No more noise than necessary.

The grunt he jumped on as they passed by shouted in surprise before Jack kicked the back of his leg and smashed the guy's head with a fist, effectively knocking him out. The shout drew the other guards, whom he dispatched quickly with a roll and a few more calculated punches. To the head and sides respectively.

_Idiots_. He shook his head at the unconscious forms and stepped over one on the way. Honestly, sometimes it was too easy getting in. Getting out was usually the hard part.

His gloved fingers glided over the door for a moment, before he reached into one of his boots and pulls out a key. It was a simple thing, made of metal, that fit automatically to any lock. Old fashioned ones, not digital. Thankfully this one was the former.

The door groaned open with a little push. On the other side it revealed a dimly lit long hall, debris dotted all the way. Dust coated nearly every exposed surface, and for once, he was thankful for his mask, otherwise lord knows what he might've inhaled.

He got his rifle in hand and moved forward. His objective: File room, or server room as it was called now. This old outpost used to be Blackwatch before Talon raided it and took it for themselves. He was here for information, and he'd better damn well get it this time around. He knew there were several levels and that it connected to a warehouse on the other side of the streets. One level housed his targets, and the others were miscellaneous and multipurpose.

Jack found the way down easily enough, with its rusted steel and chipped concrete stairwell glaringly obvious. The vigilante nimbly vaulted over the railing and landed on the floor below with a dull thud. Now in front of him was a long hall with little light like the ones above. He flicked his visor again. Night-vision, just in case.

He jogged down the way and stopped just before the nearest door, hearing more voices rise up. He leant against the wall, ear pressed to the metal.

_"Section 3 is clear. 4 is being scoped now, over._ " A female crackled through a radio, or over some mic.

"Understood. Keep all eyes peeled." A male this time, young.

_"Affirmative, sir."_

"Squad 5, report." Radio silence. "Squad 5? A report, now."

Nothing. Five must be the ones he knocked off, he assumed. He held his rifle up, barrel pointed straight ahead, and moved in front of the door. The element of surprise would wear off any moment now. So with that in mind, he kicked the door in. The man by the communications went down with just a single shot and the next goes to another which he hadn't heard. _"Sir? Sir!_ " Jack cut off the feed just before he had to dive out of the way. A bullet ricocheted in the spot where his head had just been. Whipping out his pistol he fired back at the shooter, sending four rapid bullets flying. The last enemy goes down with a bang, their sniper rifle clattering to the floor uselessly.

Well. If they didn't know he was here, they sure did now. Jack holstered his sidearm and snatched his other weapon back up. He then turned his attention to the monitors and quickly gets to work.

It was a relatively simple process of extracting the data, usually. As like now, there weren't any blocks in the way because the terminal had been in use. And of course, hadn't been wiped yet.

He ran into that problem at lot. Talons' been covering their asses as much as they can with him going after them. Overwatch has been doing the same, but in a more noticeable way. Strike-Commander Reyes and his team have cracked down progressively harder on their stings.

_Sorry, Gabriel._

It's been over a year now since he faked his death, to start this long hunt to protect both them, and the organization he'd dedicated his life too. He remembered what happened to Lacroix vividly. It had shaken them all. To think they could get so close to home, to family and friends. Talon cut no corners in their ops, if then, rarely. He could only use what knowledge he'd gleaned from missions to make that assessment, but by the success rate these bastards had, it was obvious.

It took him some time to get used to living this way. Running in half-blind, and being on the run constantly. Dodging from state to state, and country to country while getting other parties off of his trail. He got used to being a ghost, working in the dead of night, serving the light.

_Kinda poetic, ain't it?_

A soft _beep_ drew him out of his thoughts and he quickly unplugged the blinking data spike. He tucked it securely into his jacket, zipping the pocket closed. He reaches into another pocket and pulls out a round object. Jack set it on the dashboard and turned it on.

_1:99._

_1:98._

A little time-grenade should do the job of covering his tracks.

He did a quick look around before he left the room and made his way back to the stairs, keeping the clock going on in his head. Wasting no time, he darted up the stairs. He'd also reloaded his pulse rounds by the time he reaches the top.

He had a good feeling he was about to get some company.

_BANG_.

Some cement and dust were unsettled by both the noise and force. There's a cry, then footsteps thundered toward him. His gun at the ready, he sprinted forward to greet them with a hail of bullets. And maybe a fist or two.

Just to make sure.

The butt of his rifle slammed right into the side of one of their heads. He spun and fired a shot right into another's chest, downing two in one motion. While Jack didn't like killing, at this point it was more of a necessary evil now.

He felt the moment when he's shot twice in the side, two holes ripped the fabric of his jacket and in-between the bulletproof vest he wore under it. He hissed at the pain and returned fire. He heard a yell then a thump as he rolled to the side, presumably from now dead Talon agent.

"Just kill him already!" A rain of fire fell down upon him from the doorway, he quickly reloaded again and grit his teeth. His HUD flashed. He smiled grimly under his mask.

The moment his cover was not getting pelted with bullets, he jumped out and fired away. Three blue streaks flew out toward the cluster of troops at the end of the way, none of them able to dodge as they exploded on impact with the ground under them.

He walked through the smoke caused by the blast a few moments later, only sparing a quick look at the unconscious men as he left the building. His visor informed him they were alive if a little singed.

He rested his rifle on his shoulder and again checked the surrounding rooftops for those snipers. He doesn't see them---yet. The men he knocked out earlier are still dead to the world as he stepped over them on his way out.

_Mission Completed._

  
It's not much later that he found his way back to his current safe house, his rifle strapped to his back, with a hand pressed onto his wound. He checked the locks on the door, hand slippery with blood. He let out a tired sigh as he boarded up the door for what he knew was going to be a long night.

He took off his weapons and ammunition first, depositing both on the makeshift table he has set up for repairing. His jacket is next, he peeled it off with a low groan as the movement strained the already bad injury. His vest and shirt join it on the floor. His headgear soon follows.

Jack had to dig around a bit for a med kit, but he finds what he needs quickly enough and sits down on the bed. Using the broken mirror, he glares at the two bloody holes in his side. There were no exit wounds, so he would have to get the remaining metal out himself before his healing could kick in.

He felt old. _Wonderful_.

The man in the mirror is young, though, with light blond hair atop a pale but scarred face. More scars dotted around the exposed torso. He looked no older than 30. Scowling, he turned away from it and got to work patching himself up.

He grabbed the tweezers with trepidation.

_Motherfucker! Shit that hurts_. Bit by bit, his wound was cleared, cleaned, and bandaged. His side was screaming at him by the time he's done, both his hands and side coated with his blood. He's half a mind to just pass out then and there, but he dragged himself up.

He washed his hands and side mostly free of the red, his skin still showed the color even after he deems it good enough.

Snagging his pistol, he dropped into bed with a groan. His blue eyes stared up at the ceiling for several long moments. "Night." He mumbles to himself, checking the safety on the gun before putting it under his pillow, already drifting off.

As usual, he dreamt of the past. Of laughter and better times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will give a look into the past year and hopefully explain some of Jack's behavior. Then it'll be Gabe's time to shine c:


	3. Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is worth fighting for?

At the beginning, Jack felt horrible about leaving his friends. Reminders always popped up in the news, and he never could seem to avoid looking them up every time he had the chance. He might be dead to them, but he wasn't going to let that stop him from caring too much.

Not like he _could_ , anyway.

Overwatch was doing fine now, for the most part, he knew Gabriel had always wanted the position himself, but his friend probably didn't want to get it the way he did this time around. Jack had long shaken off the idea that the man had anything to do with the internal plots, it was simply too much reaching for him. Besides, Gabriel was a fine leader in his own right, they'd be alright with him.

It didn't stop the worrying that followed for the next months. He cared a lot about his friends, his family. But he was doing what he needed to do, hopefully, they would understand. After he'd gotten punched a few times presumably. Still. Talon had to be stopped. Along with the corruption in the ranks of Overwatch had to be dealt with quickly, before it could spread further. Jack suspected they had claws in the UN as well, but little proof in that regard. Unfortunately. But with how they were scrabbling for his head before, he kept that thought in mind.

On the days where he had to recuperate, he busied himself with small things. Checking up on them, of course, was one of them. Jack made sure he was well armed, and all his equipment was in right order. He had a mental checklist every time, it helped with keeping himself in the moment and on track.

'Course, it doesn't help when you see your _best friend_ in the news after some battle all bruised and cut up.

Overwatch had gotten word of a base from one of theirs, Jack had noted, listening to the voices drone on in the back of his mind. They'd raided the place and apparently found evidence that there had been a plot to take Jack Morrison out of the picture, along with Overwatch as a whole. The info, however, was inconclusive as no names had been mentioned, or locals.

* * *

Now days later, Jack was still fairly sure Talon was purposefully leading Overwatch along. From the pattern, it was too coincidental for them to find that much. When he has been at this for a year and found little more than the same, with some more detail here and there. He sighed loudly, blowing his bangs up with the exhale. His fingers come around to pinch the bridge of his nose as he set aside the files he'd been digging through. It was all more or less similar. But something did show up that he thought was interesting, to say the least.

Talon was moving some of its stock. Weapons and tech. Jack let his hand fall, and he brought up the file in question. His eyes hardened as he read through it again and again. They were getting nervous with _Soldier: 76_ 's continued assaults on their hideouts---here he couldn't stop himself from smirking---and disrupting their operations seemingly out of nowhere.

Of course, that last bit was not really true. He just did his homework. And he also had been a leader too, so strategy was second nature to him for the most part. Though Jack lacked Gabriel's... _readiness_ to push boundaries.

The pickups were scheduled for the weekend, near ROUTE 66 of all places. The former commander had to wonder if Talon had affiliates within the Deadlock gang, it wouldn't be surprising if it was true. He learned they had ties with nearly every criminal organization out there in the world. Those bastards were like flies.

Jack huffed and snatched up the file again. Gloveless fingers crossed over the screen and he observed the pictures one by one. This was more of an inventory file truly, but it was no less informative, it showed all the explosives, guns, ammo, anything that a wacko terrorist would love to get their hands all over.

"Jesus." He muttered to himself, tapping the screen idly with a thumb. "You'd think they're compensating for something."

Some scenarios played out in his mind. He'd never been in Deadlock territory before, only Gabriel and his Blackwatch had gone there to his knowledge. He pursed his lips in thought. The canyon didn't offer much protection or cover at any time of day, anyone willing enough to be out there in that heat all the time was a little crazy in his opinion.

Then again, Jack _did_ grow up in the plains.

Right well, if he wanted to get rid of that cache before it was distributed elsewhere, he should get moving. Jack stood fluidly and grabbed his jacket.

_'Let's go.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next one is Gabriel and the others! Overwatch hasn't been fairing as well as Jack thinks...


	4. We're Screwed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we see a little about what Overwatch has been up too since Jack's "death". This is my first time writing Gabriel so any kind advice would be appreciated. ;v;

For months, all Gabriel could think of was that explosion. The shrapnel flying everywhere, the air filling with smoke and dust making it hard as hell to breathe. It was a shit fest. It was horrible enough that he couldn't find Jack in the mess, but the explosives were just the icing on the damn cake.

Bitterness welled in the Strike-Commander's heart. That golden-boy just had to be the hero. Had to get killed in action. Asshole didn't even leave a corpse behind, just a shit ton of blood.

_Here Lies_

_Jack Morrison._

_Commander._

_Overwatch._

_A great man, with an even kinder soul. May he rest in peace._

He glared down at the headstone with dark eyes as if it were mocking him, but it didn't take long for his gaze to falter. Gabriel sighed and rubbed a hand down his face, ignoring the heavy feeling settling somewhere in his chest. The dark haired man turned on his heel and walked quietly away from the site, a small, blue flower being the only evidence he had even been there.

He was fucking _tired_. Being Strike-Commander, the position that should have been his from the get-go, was a hell of a lot more stressful than he anticipated. Though maybe that was just because he didn't have Jack here to brighten the day with his stupid smile.

He missed him. Sure, they'd been pissy at each other for years now over their work, and what else but god dammit if he didn't miss that farm boy.

Guess the sayings true. _You don't know it 'till you lose it._

* * *

Gabriel grumbled lowly to himself in Spanish. He massaged his temples with his fingers as he walked away from what was probably the most stressful argument he had in a long time. The stupidly pristine hallways annoying the hell out of him. Of course, it's been about his last operation against Jack's killers. How reckless it was, how it was this that and the other.

He really wanted to just deck someone.

"Commander?"

.... And Jesse shall appear out of nowhere. Convenient. "What now?" McCree raised his hands in peace. The younger male stood at about the same height as him but was dressed in probably the exact opposite way. Gabriel's still not sure where that belt buckle came from, but that hat alone made Jesse visible from a mile away.

"I just was wondering how you were doing today, jeez." McCree sighed, shoulders slumped.

"I'm fine, kid."

"Alright. It's just---ya know." McCree floundered suddenly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Today..." Gabriel's eyebrows furrowed before his expression hardened into steel. The date was July Sixth. He glared coolly passed the younger. _Shit, how'd that escape him? Was he really that caught up in all this crap?_ "Wait look---"

"Stop." He held up at hand, smoothing his features as best he could. He needed to be alone. "I'm fine. Bye." Without waiting for another second, Gabriel brushed passed the cowboy-wannabe, his steps hard on the floor.

Thankfully, his space was right around the corner of the stupidly pristine hall. He restrained the urge to slam the door closed, and just locked it right back up when he was inside. The former Blackwatch leader sank into the chair behind the desk and rested his forehead on a propped fist.

It's several long moments later that he raised his head tiredly and flicked on the standard dimmed lights. Gabriel wouldn't admit it to anyone else, but goddammit if he wasn't just _done_ with Overwatch. Every day it was the same thing, same routine, same fucking people.

A lot of said people were justing asking for a shotgun shell to the face. How Jack dealt with all the nonsense daily he'll never know. Literally. Morrison was dead. Gabriel seemed to sink further into his seat, he scrubbed at his eyes, which had started to water.

July Sixth was the day of the mission that took the former Strike-Commander's life. Some nights he could still feel the dirt on his hands as he tried to find his friend in the rubble after the explosion. It had been a long, long day after they were all forced to stop the search. There was simply no body left to recover, just a shit ton of blood and Jack's stupid little visor.

 _Fuck_. He might've grown apart over the years from Jack, but he'd still lo--- _cared_ about him. Yeah, Gabriel had been still a little annoyed about being passed up for his current position the first time around, his friend being chosen instead. He was older, had more experience... But even he admitted Jack had that air about him. He made things work out alright, kept everyone together despite their own rift.

Morrison always did try to see the best in people. Most of the time. Being in the military, then Overwatch during the crisis, Gabriel's sure both of them have had some shrewd views. Even if shit's been kinda quiet for a while, the experiences stick around.

His expression soured even further and he pulled the hat he always wore off. He knew that he probably should get work done before he let sleep claim him, but he couldn't bring himself to start.

Gabriel sighed. He rested his head back and just stared up at the ceiling like an idiot. Here he was---fucking _moping_ about again.

Jack's death had hit him harder than he might've thought it would. They'd been friends for long years, even before Overwatch came around. Met in the Soldier Enhancement Program, and while he'd been above the golden haired man, that hadn't stopped Gabriel from grudgingly enjoying the calm company.

Of course, then he'd learned Jack had a mischievous streak. It was always the small things with him at first, then it went right to dyeing hair. While childish, the red stripes that appeared in his hair one day weren't actually that bad. He still reprimanded him since they'd shared a room then, it had to be Jack.

Another memorable moment involved his hat. Gabriel shook his head fondly as he remembered it, genuinely smiling for the first time in a while. A shrill beep jarred him out of his thoughts and he sat up straight. His communicator flashed up at him, a message displaying. It was McCree again, but this time, it was with good news.

_'We have that location we needed, sir. But I don't like it.'_

He was quick to reply. _'Where is it, Jesse?'_

_'Route 66.'_

_'Ready up and get the others, we move out at two hundred hours.'_

_Let's go kick this Talon down a notch,_ he thought, standing and shoving his com into his pocket and putting on his beanie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mentioned hat prank can be found on my Tumblr here: http://kingmattie.tumblr.com/post/147060575450/the-mysterious-case-of-the-traveling-beanie-it


	5. Complications.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuuuun.

It was hot. Really, _really_ hot. Jack wiped his forehead again. Sure, he'd worked in some pretty warm places of the world with Overwatch, but he hadn't had to trek around on foot. He avoided public transportation like it was the plague itself nowadays. To much risk, not enough cover... etc.

And maybe he was just a touch paranoid too.

He walked along the old, cracked roadway, Jack's eyes occasionally sweeping the ledges and the cliff face. He was, after all, going in blind, whatever defenses were set up would be a challenge to get by. Especially in the dark---he glanced toward the setting sun.

It had taken him a fair while to get this far out here. It was the perfect place to hide out, nothing for miles, besides old buildings and whatever other debris was scattered around by the wind. He's fairly certain he saw an old car tire not long ago. One other thing was the dust. And the occasional tumbleweed rolling along. The west didn't fail to make him miss Indiana. The long, green plains that stretch onward for seemingly ever. Clear blue skies over the farmland, the fresh air... He shook his head to clear it.

Jack continued on for some time, pausing here and there for a few minutes to rest. He might be a super soldier now but he felt that he might need all the energy he could get for what's to come. If say, he needed to make a run for it.

He probably just jinxed himself there. Great.

Road stretched onward for a time, he soldiered on until the sun was just dipping beyond the horizon until he saw the sign. _Go Away_ was graffitied onto the one he stopped in front of. Not very welcoming at all. The way to the left was strangely clear.

The visor wasn't picking up heat signatures, but Jack still aired on the side of caution, his rifle now in hand, as he crept forward along the wall. He quietly fiddled with the setting before the range increased and was calibrated for such. His shoulder almost touching the rock, he moved in, clicking the safety off his gun.

  
By the time he'd managed to find a way in undetected, the vigilante had already knocked out a fair few gang members. All of which will probably wake up with mild concussions in the morning. 

 Jack slipped in quietly through the dirt tunnels, crouched low to the ground. He expected a little more security to be honest, while there were the guards outside, inside he's only seen a few Talon agents posted at doors. No patrolling as of yet. _Maybe they've already moved some of the heavy hitters._ He mused to himself.

He watched the guards for a few more moments before one of them raised a hand to his head---coms, he thought---and said something to their partner. Jack narrowed his eyes but didn't stick around. Ducking around crates wasn't the most stealthy thing he could've done, but it worked.

The vigilante brought out his pistol, that had been strapped to his thigh, replacing his bulky pulse weapon for the time being. It was also easier to hit people, and having a hand free isn't a bad thing either.

After finding his way to a security room, and dumping a few bodies out of sight, Jack was startled by the sound of an explosion, the muscles in his body tensing reflexively. "The hell....?" He muttered. It was far off, but still too close to be nothing. _Outside perhaps?_ His eyebrows drew together at the thought. _Infighting? Or is there someone else that wants what was stashed here?_

He didn't like that idea. Thundering footsteps racing passed the room didn't help either. Jack put the hacking chip back in his boot and got his rifle back in hand.

The second he left the doorway, Jack rained fire on the Talon troops from behind. One toppled right away with a screech. The element of surprise working with him for once. He used his tactical visor to ensure none left the area. He popped out the spent pulse clip once the agents were either dead or unconscious and placed a new one in quickly, keeping his visor lit and scanning.

Now to set up some of his own surprises.

* * *

 

"Ugh." Jesse McCree grumbled lowly, lounging beside his commander as the other looked out for patrols. "I thought when I was leavin' here I'd never come back."

The dark skinned man rolled his eyes, setting his binoculars down. "So did I, but here we are." Reyes motioned with his arm, he then tapped his ear and spoke, giving Jesse both radio and verbal orders. _"I got a visual, we're moving out. Right side, teams of two, then four. Meet up there. Then we blow this place."_

A chorus of affirmations answered back almost immediately.

"Let's just get it over with." McCree tipped his hat up and stood along with other. He drew out his gun and had to nearly run after his partner as Reyes jumped down from their perch and started off without him. They would be going around back, towards a service entrance. _Collins was in charge of the distraction,_ Jesse recalled, _then it was just the other strikers_. The first would go around and group with the others after the stuff was planted.

 _Highly_ explosive C4. Jesse ain't sure where it came from, but the gleam in Reyes' eyes was more than enough to know that it was probably best he didn't know. Probably some old Blackwatch stuff.

They stopped short of their destination, his commander holding a hand up for a pause. McCree himself couldn't hear anything, but when shotguns appeared in Reyes's hands, he was sure _he_ did. Static crackled in his ear. _"C4 in place. Ready on your word, sir."_

Reyes grunted, _"Do it."_

**_BOOM._ **

The sounds of the explosions themselves were jarring. He had to wonder just how much of that shit those two used. Though he couldn't dwell on that because as expected, guys with guns ran out from the compound.

Jesse could recognize the Deadlock tattoos anywhere, and he had to breathe in and out to steady himself. Here's hoping he wasn't recognized right away.

He and Gabriel burst in through the door and shot at the surprised gang members and Talon goons. His commander was right at home in the firefight, his guns ringing out and never seemingly stopping. While he had to duck and reload every six shots. Then again, Reyes was probably elbowing the shit out of a fair few of them just by being as close as he was. He also finds the time to bark at him to watch his flank.

The duo moved further in and soon ran into Collins who looks a little worse for wear with a wound on their upper arm. They brushed off the glance from Jesse. "I'm fine, kid. I've had worse."

"We've all had worse." He mumbled back and got a pat on the shoulder as they addressed Reyes.

"Commander, control rooms are to the south. Thankfully one of these idiots was _gracious_ enough to point us in the direction. Malen and Marron are covering our retreat."

"Good." Gabriel nodded, he brought up his guns again with a grin. "Then let's get on with it. See you on the other side."

"Right away, sir." The Blackwatch infiltrator saluted and went off in the other direction.

Reyes and McCree moved forward in theirs, taking down Talon and Deadlock alike that happened upon the two. The base was full of tight corners and tunnels. But they reached the stand quickly enough, though alarms had started blaring throughout.

Reyes was at the consoles typing away. "The fuck do you turn this shit off." He growled. As if on queue, the base is suddenly silent. The commander blinked in surprise.

"Magic." Jesse stage whispered. Gabriel made to reply, but a monotone voice spoke from the loudspeakers.

_"---BREACH CONFIRMED. OVERWATCH AGENTS."_

McCree shook his head. "Can't believe it took 'em this long."

"Jesse." Reyes cut in, sharp brown eyes burrowing into the two. He looked troubled for a second as he glanced back at the computer. "I'm going to split and meet back up with you at the warehouse. Remember, the stocks are the priority. Keep in touch with the others."

"Uh ... Sir?" He said, but the Strike-Commander was already out the door.

* * *

 

_"----MED. OVERWATCH AGENTS."_

Wait. What? Jack honestly thought for a moment that his heart stopped, he was in the middle of planting charges in the secondary power room, when the alarms stopped suddenly. He'd grinned when he realized his bug worked but that soon turned to horror when the message came through.

 _Fuck_. Overwatch? Here? Not good, not good at all. As deftly as he could, he placed the last of the bunch and hooked them together.

With the lines all set up, Jack turned his attention to getting to the next section. Avoiding Overwatch if at all possible.

He darted down the corridor, rifle to his chest. Unfortunately, he came face to face with heavy resistance. A shot got passed and he looked at his now bleeding forearm with a groan. The firefight that broke out nearly drowned out the repeated announcement.

If his heart hadn't stopped before, it probably did then. _Shit shit shit._ Not good. Don't have time for this. He scrambled for the detonator and pushed the button with little hesitation. The ground under him wobbled as the tremors reached him.

_"SECONDARY POWER SYSTEMS OFFLINE."_

Jack watched as the lights flickered and dimmed, he crushed the plastic in his hand and tossed it to the side. He hefted his rifle back up and quickly dispatched some more of his enemies. By the time his count reached ten, he was running out of ammunition. Popping another clip in, he grimaced. He knew he had to move but he was pinned. More bullets pinged off the wood above his head. He cursed his luck. Switching to his pistol again, he made sure to aim for arms and shoulders.

It was brutal. That much was certain. By the time the air went still, Jack was spent. The corridor he'd dived into was littered with bodies, thankfully there was little blood. He holstered his sidearm and stood. Paying little attention to the bodies, he continued forward. His arm was beginning to sting like hell.

He didn't make it very far. As tingle crept up the back of his neck, and he slowed and made to grab his sidearm again.

But it was too late.

"Stop right there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chin hands* Well that's not good now is it? :3c


	6. It's been a long time.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It Happens.

" --- Hands up, _niño_." The voice continued.

There were no other words to better describe his thoughts than these two: _Oh shit._

Jack froze at hearing the telltale click of a shotgun's safety close to his ear. He slowly did as was told, resting his hands on his blond head. He breathed out slowly. _It's been so long since he heard him in person..._

Gabriel Reyes stepped into view, face set in a hard frown. Dressed in black he looked like death peeling out from behind him. Those eyes he knew so well were narrowed. Gun pointed right at his head. "I'm surprised." The dark skinned man said further, "If it isn't Soldier: 76."

"Strike-Commander Reyes." Jack rumbled back, voice thankfully distorted by the mask. It hopefully hid him well enough. "I'm not your enemy here."

Gabriel barked out a laugh. "Then what are you doing all the way out here, _vigilante_?" A shotgun is waved in front of his visor, "Slumming it with Talon?" He mocked.

Jack had to grit his teeth. "No."

"Really? Seeing as the two of you guys seem to enjoy making us have a bad day."

"I'm not after Overwatch." He insisted, glaring a hole through the other's head. While his words were true to an extent, he was kinda after it as well. Or at least the ones that were trying to topple them all from within.

"Mhm." Gabriel grabbed his pistol and tossed it away from them, before devising him of the pulse rifle as well. His friend looked over the weapon curiously for a second. Jack tried not to think too much about the fact that he was now weaponless in the middle of Talon's operations. He jumped a bit when a hand searched through his jacket pockets. The man frowned. "Where is it?"

"Where's what?" Jack raised an eyebrow. He was given an unimpressed stare.

"The chip, _idiota_. I know you have one." Gabriel said, patting the other side down. "Blackwatch tech. Very useful, wasn't it?"

" ... My boot," Jack muttered. Gabriel snorted and fished it out with quick fingers, turning it over to almost inspect it. He'd picked it up when he was slinking through a Blackwatch hideout, thankfully empty at the time. A lot of equipment had been stashed, extras. The chip had been in a safe with a bit of physical money.

"So, where'd you get this huh?" Gabriel waved the thing in front of him, eyebrows set in a frown. "Take it off one of mine's corpse?"

"No."

A hard stare. "I don't believe you."

"Thought not." He grumbled out as he watched Gabe put the chip in his pocket. "You gonna let me put my hands down now?"

The Strike-Commander chuckled, shook his head. "You're coming with us, 76. Can't just let you go when you've been stealing tech. Raiding our safe houses." As Gabriel radioed in his teammates, Jack tried to guess his chances of getting out of this.

Whenever they fought, he'd always been the quicker one of the two, while Gabriel used strength in close quarters. He remembered a time when they'd danced around each other, taunting playfully back and forth on the mat. Trading jabs and jokes... That was before they grew apart.

"Alright, Soldier: 76. Coast's all clear." His friend's voice broke through his thoughts. And he found himself being nudged to stand against the wall. The shotgun _still_ in his face. "Don't even think about trying to---."

Jack, of course, didn't listen. And when Gabriel had the ties in his hand, he struck. The vigilante slammed his elbow into the shotgun, knocking it away. Though the other man was quick to respond with a punch to his side.

The two men grappled at each other, Jack with the intention of getting the _fuck_ out of there, and Gabriel with knocking this punk out.

"I warned you, _cabron_." The man hissed.

"So _sorry_." Jack snarled back without thinking, sidestepping a kick and blocking another hit. He retaliated with a sharp jab at Gabriel's ribs, but his arm was grabbed and twisted. He surprised a howl of pain, and instead freed his arm by ramming into the man, digging his shoulder into his chest.

The momentum caused them to crash into the opposite wall. Gabriel's head smacked against the wall, Jack cringed but used the blow to get back and run. He sprinted down the hall, hearing the commander pursue a second late with a curse on his lips.

Jack was very thankful for the SEP usually, giving him his advantages to average persons. But against Gabe, it was all skill, since they'd gone through that particular hell together some years ago.

Not to mention they'd also fought side by side in the Omnic Crisis.

They ran through empty and littered corridors alike, boots rhythmically thumping on the concrete floor. Jack has yet to see anyone else besides Gabriel, the man's team nowhere to be found. Talon much the same, though he's run by several that were most likely unconscious.

He made a quick to turn to left after feigning right at a cross, he could hear the Strike-Commander once more com his fellows.

Jack kept going. And when he noticed Gabriel was no longer following, he slowed and caught his breath. Beads of sweat were wiped from his forehead with a hand. He reached for his guns, but of course, he remembers his friend had confiscated them.

Grumbling moodily to himself, he made his way all the way back to the way he came in by the skin of his teeth. He'd nearly run into Jesse McCree of all people, who still sported that hat of his on the way.

The doors were thankfully untouched when he got to them, Jack squeezed himself out of the opening he made. It was nearly pitch black, but his visor tinted everything red. The moon was high in the sky, a dark red dot.

He crept around the sides, much like how he'd gotten in. The vigilante mourned the loss of his weapons and chip as he scaled an outer wall. Landing with no more than a huff, he patted his pockets for anything of use. _Just this,_ he thought, turning over his army knife, _it'll do 'till I get back to -_

This time, he really should've seen it coming.

From behind, a fist collided with the tip of his spine, sending him to his knees. He hissed as pain shot through, but forced himself to look back up.

"You are an absolute pain in the ass, you know that." Gabriel snarled, grabbing Jack's wrists before he could do anything about it. He was cuffed without pause.

Jack himself chuckled, but it was more of a sigh. "So I've been told before." He grumbled back. "The hell did you come from again?"

"Maybe if you looked behind yourself every once in a while you'd've seen me." Gabriel answered stiffly, hauling him up to his feet with a hard tug. "That tech of yours doesn't do good at watching your six, huh?"

Jack didn't reply and instead let himself he dragged who knows where by his arm, which still hurt from their earlier scuffle.

The other man spoke as they turned a corner. "I got 76... _Yes_ I did, McCree. Let's go. Before this whole place goes critical. Set the timers, we'll need to be airborne before they go off..."

He really wanted to try and get out of his binds now, but even he could see that the only way out of here would be with Gabriel now. And whoever else was with him.

 _Yay_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY ABOUT THE CLIFFHANGER FROM LAST CHAPTER.


	7. Regrets?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack has a problem with sitting still.

Riding back to the base was probably one of the singularly most awkward trips of Jack's entire life. Being stared at, while something he'd grown used to when he was 'alive', was exactly comfortable when it's just him and maybe three other people.

He noticed that only a few had Blackwatch on their shoulders as they walked by.

Gabriel had also cuffed him to his chair, on top of already being unable to use his hands. And Jesse had gone and took his knife and was now looking it over in his own seat in front of the vigilante-thought-Talon.

Why they thought he was with those jackasses, he didn't know. But looking back, he did seem to pop up a lot at their bases and points. Not to mention he has been going through Overwatch hideouts, and even a watchpoint once, for supplies and equipment.

Probably why they've been gunning for him. Maybe not actively, but still.

"Gotta a problem with me, Blondie?" McCree asked suddenly, and Jack realized he'd been looking at the kid for the past few minutes. He shook his head and turned away to look elsewhere.

"Jesse." Gabriel chose this moment to return to his seat, grabbing the knife from Jesse's hands with a sigh. He sank down next to the cowboy and strapped himself back in.

The younger man crossed his arms and leaned back into his seat. "He was lookin' at me funny."

The commander just shook his head and went back to keeping an eye on him. Jack felt the eyes on him, the weight making him a bit fidgety. But that also could be the fact he was right in the middle of Overwatch's reach. Again, anyway.

 _Wait. Shit, which names were the ones from the files he'd found again? Simmons,_ he thought, _though there's probably a few hundred of those in the systems. God who else? Well, the ones I haven't already exposed or taken care off._

He'd gotten a fair few of them in the past month. A combination of patience and timing went a long way at taking the floor right out of those traitors and turncoats. By just how entrenched they were in Overwatch, it's taken longer to just make sure Jack was targeting the right one, and not some poor sap that shared a name.

Blackwatch was similar but also more untouchable by him. While he did know some of how the organization operated, it was pretty much in Gabriel's hands all the time.

Well. Now all of Overwatch was in the man's hands now.

Jack sighed softly. He could see the time had taken a toll on Gabriel, just by the lines on his dark skin. More scarring, more scruff. Still as handsome as the last time he'd looked - _really_ looked.

His heart did a little flip and he had to remind himself that he was dead to Gabriel. Blown up by some terrorist a year ago on an op.

His hands curl and uncurl as he allowed himself to relax minutely. There would be no reason for bringing Jack back unless they wanted to talk. Gabriel would've just killed him if Overwatch didn't think he might have something to hide.

Besides his own identity of course. He's sure that's what's on their mind too.

He just hoped it wouldn't go that far.

" _\- ETA is 5, Commander Reyes._ " That must be the pilot, he mused. _Time flies when you're left to your thoughts._

Gabriel said a curt, "Thank you." He turned to him then and gave him another one of his hard stares. "Hey. Are you listening, 76?"

"... Yeah."

"Good. Cause I'm only going to say this once." His tone was dead serious, "Any sudden moves, and you'll go down. My guys have permission to use whatever force is necessary."

Jack said nothing in return, just inclining his head enough so he'd get that he got the message loud and clear. Not one to poke the sleeping bear, he'd comply. "Right then," The strike commander continued, motioning to Jesse as he stood up. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

Again, it was strange being on the opposite side of things. Being the one that's tied to a metal chair in a cold room with little light, and not outside working over information.

He wondered if McCree had felt something like it. The... uneasy feeling the room held. Though his visor was still in place, along with the mask. It allowed him to keep track of the time, and temperature if he desired. It helped, if only marginally.

Jack had been brought straight here by McCree and another, Collins perhaps. Gabriel had gone ahead went they touched down on the tarmac.

_Goddammit, it's really fucking quiet in here._

He tested the restraints around his wrists, rolling the joints in slow motions. Just enough to keep him down, probably. Not too much to bruise if he just sat there and waited for... what was it? An hour now?

While his injuries had been field dressed, Jack could feel them beginning to start aching again, pain stinging the edges of the wounds. It was nothing he could handle.

He did, after all, pull himself out of an explosion.

Around the hour and a half mark, he was greeted by the sight of his friend again. The man lacked his signature hat but was otherwise the same. He also held a physical file which he set on the table in-between them. The strike commander took the other open chair.

Jack wasn't too surprised Gabriel himself was going to be asking the questions. He could be very persuasive when he wanted to be.

"Soldier: 76. Male, presumed. Origin, unknown." He spoke finally, an eyebrow raised. "Why don't we just cut to the chase. Why were you at that warehouse tonight?"

"Hello to you too," Jack says dryly. Gabriel gave him yet another one of his looks. "Fine, I was looking for something."

"Oh?"

" _Yes_."

"And that something would be...?"

"Well, I wasn't there for the company." He sighed, "For Information. For clearing out the place."

The other man crossed his arms over his chest. "And what did they offer for that first one?"

"I've told you before. I don't work with those... _bastardos_." Jack affirmed, a tad harsh. "I don't work for anyone. I went in there with the intent of blowing them to pieces. Like you, apparently."

"I heard you." Gabriel's expression revealed nothing to Jack, unfortunately. "Alright, say you're not with them. Then why go out of the way to find Overwatch safe houses?"

"Supplies," Jack said honestly.

"And how did you find them?"

"Luck."

Gabriel snorted, "There's no such thing as luck."

"Then what would you call it, Commander?" 

"Training." The man answered curtly, "You were obviously trained well to spot things. Trained well to fight and shoot too."

While he had lost some of his sight to the incident, he did know Overwatch in and out. That wasn't really training. The protocols he'd help establish were for the most part still in place, he had a good idea where things could and would be hidden or stocked.

That was how he was able to keep up with his pulse ammunition after all.

"I know combat, yes," Jack revealed evenly. "You can thank the military for that one."

 

It goes on like that for some time.

Gabriel and Jack going back and forth with every question posed. The vigilante stayed both honest, and as vague as possible depending. He also refrained from making side comments. Or tried too at least.

Finally, after he had left, assuming he got what he needed for the moment, Jack was cuffed again and taken to a cell. Small and cold.

He sat down on the hard steel of what was probably supposed to be a bed, his wrists still tied. Leant against the wall, he let his eyes close, his forehead relaxing.

They still hadn't taken his mask away. Not yet at least. Jack had bargained with them, let him keep his identity, and he'd be honest, complacent, with them. So far it's worked, for how long he wouldn't know. He sighed softly and let himself drift.

Later, Jack was startled into the land of the living by the sound of the door opening.

It was Jesse, much to his surprise. The young man tipped his hat to him with a free hand, like a true western gentleman, after he set down a bowl of what looked like food and some water on the little table near to the door. "Delivery for ya." McCree drawled, crossing his arms.

"Thanks, I guess," Jack mumbled.

"Sure, sure." The kid waved him off, walking toward him. "Now, I was told to also switch ya out of your bindings a bit ya could eat. No funny business, alright, 76?"

 _No promises._ Jack stood and turned so McCree could do his thing. As he started unlocking, he made sure to stand mostly still. _Actually... If he could get Jesse by surprise... he might be able to get to the emergency exit near the start of the cells. The code should be still 8641 to silence the alarm._

 **Click**. He let himself be turned around.

_I'm going regret this later..._

Before the last ring could close around his wrist, he reached out and grabbed McCree's hand. The cowboy opened his mouth to speak, but Jack put him in a headlock. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be." He muttered to him.

Jesse, obviously, must have taken that as a challenge. Jack tried to keep his grip hard but when the barrel of a gun pressed into his own neck he stopped. They stood like that for several long moments. Neither moved.

"Let. me. go." Jesse hissed. And Jack compiled, slowly. Hands held up, he watched him cough and aim right for his forehead. The man counted silently, waiting. And when Jesse went for the door... Jack probably shouldn't have listened to his 'need to get out' instinct.

A shot fired, the sound unmistakable.

Jack scrambled backwards, his back thumping against the opposite wall. The bullet had gotten his mask as he tried to dodge left, and goddamn it hurt. Heedless of the danger of removing it, he went for the clasps, feeling blood well on his skin.

The clicks of the releases stopped McCree, he noticed vaguely. He pressed a hand to his cheek where some pierced of the mask had been forced into the skin by the force.

"... Morrison?!" _Later, then._  

He darted forward then, shoving the pain down as he pushed Jesse into the wall by his shoulders. The younger man's eyes were staring at his face, gun slack in one hand as he looked. "Say anything about this to anyone and I'll know." He threatened lowly. "I'm leaving, and you won't stop me. Understand?" Jesse only kept staring at the supposed dead man's features. He sighed, "I'm sorry about this."

Jack used the shock and reluctantly knocked the poor kid out cold.

* * *

When he came to in the cell, Morrison long gone, Jesse knew what he had to do.

He ran to the surveillance room and watched the video. He thanked whatever God was watching because it looked like no one had noticed that their prisoner had up and left. It had only been maybe an hour.

His head hurt.

After he got the security tapes in hand and made sure they were the only copies left, the originals destroyed, he managed to corner his commanding officer. Said man seemed to have a thundercloud over his head as he was unceremoniously dragged back into his office.

The cowboy made sure everything was locked tight, dodging Reyes's confused stare while he was at it. "Look." Jesse began, bringing up the video on the man's computer screen. "Just... look, okay?"

Walking passed him, Reyes raised an eyebrow at him and started playback.

 _This is gonna all go to hell isn't it_ , he thought.

Jesse turned back to look at his commander as it cut to black, but Gabriel's eyes were glued to the screen. Watch Jack over and over again. His face looked like it was made of stone. "You're certain, McCree?" He asked.

"It was him. It had to be." Jesse confirmed, taking his hat off. "I ain't one to forget a face, commander, even with those new scars. And unless there's cloning goin' on, it's him."

"That... _hijo de puta!_ " Gabriel shouted, slamming a fist into his desk. His eyes alight with both fury and pain. Jesse couldn't even begin to know what the other was feeling, but the naked emotion let him know Jack was in some deep trouble.

_Fuckin' shit, man. The fuck were you thinking, Morrison?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I'm sorry again for the cliffhangers I seem to always have.


	8. Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise guest appearance helps Jack with his dilemma.

Well, all in all, escaping from Overwatch had been straight forward. Mostly. Jack knows that Jesse would to Gabe with his information regardless of his threat. He could already feel the chill that was creeping up on him.

Tears prickled in the corner of his eyes as he finally stopped and changed in some hotel that didn't ask too many questions why a scarred man just needed a night to stay, or why he paid in cash.

The world around him felt stifling, his heart beat erratically in his chest as he sank to the floor in the bathroom near the sink. He was without his face gear, without his weapons, and without the rest of his equipment. He had what was on his back.

Resting his face in his hands, Jack sat quietly in his little corner. Breathing hitching every so often with a sob.

He hated this, he hated feeling like... _this_. _Pathetic_. But the adrenaline he had when he'd seen his friends again had worn off, and he was left with the flood of emotions that came to the forefront. In short, he felt awful.

Jesse's face flashed into his thoughts. The horror that manifested when recognition settled in. He might not have known the young man as well as Gabriel does, but he liked to think he was friends with the cowboy. He had an infectious laugh.

Jack curled up, even more, wallowing. He was crying now - he could feel the tears running down his pale face. He buried his face in his arms, angrily wiping away at the wet tracks. It's been a long time since he let himself do this, let the growing pile of ignored thoughts and feelings out in a somewhat healthy manner.

Maybe he wasn't cut out for this life, not right now. But who else would do this? Who could he trust not to turn and kill him? Even worse, to hurt the ones he cares for? Anyone could be his enemy. Talon proved that. They took Gerald and Amelie. How many more lives will be lost in the coming years because of them? Because of _him?_ Who knows how long Talon has been festering inside Overwatch, inside the UN. Hell, inside _everywhere_.

Every day, it got harder to face the stacking odds. With a whole organization still standing, for the time, and already the foundations leaked.  
The former strike commander stumbled out to the bed, pausing only to take off the remainder of his gear. He flopped down gracelessly into the sheet, staring up at the ceiling in defeat from the pillows.

It was a hard pill to swallow. One man wouldn't be enough, but God be damned if he didn't try. He was a _testardo ragazzo_. A stubborn boy, as his mother once told him.

A sad smile tugged at his split lips. He missed her. Missed his family even. His father had passed some time ago along with his grandparents, leaving him and his mother.

... Oh god, he made her bury her only child. _I'm such an asshole,_ he thought curling up onto his side, a pillow thrown over his head.

He went to sleep, troubled, and was plagued by nightmares of failure.

 

The next day, after he dragged himself out of bed, he dressed casually in some civilian clothes he had. Just a simple shirt, jeans and a jacket. Jack also picked up a baseball cap to wear. He liked to think he looked forgettable, easy to miss in a crowd.

He just needed some fresh air to clear his head. That would hopefully help. He walked down the people filled streets and sidewalks, neatly dodging the occasional person that couldn't watch where they were going.

The park was where he ended up a little later, watching the clouds and the Overwatch base in the far distance peeking out over some trees.

He sank down onto a bench out of the way and under a tree to think with a sigh tugging his cap over his eyes, the cold wind blowing passed his free hair.

"You looked troubled." He jumped and turned at the sound of the voice. An older man was seated beside him, white-haired and scarred. A soldier, if Jack had ever seen one. He wore an old black hoodie with its hood down, and some dark washed jeans. The vigilante hadn't even noticed him.

"I'm fine." He said, looking back down at his hands.

"I know a troubled soul when I see one." The man countered lightly. Murky blue eyes peer at him for a second. "I was in your position once." He looked away, and the man sighed. "Your life hasn't been an easy one."

"And how would you know that?" Jack snapped.

"Scars like ours don't always heal right." Self-consciously, he touched the white line going through both of his lips. He glanced back at the stranger and noticed he had a similar scar, only his was more faded. "Especially the ones inside, I've come to know."

"What do you mean?"

"Mental and emotional scars are always the worse. Stuff that leaves you with ghosts of the past, nightmares, night terrors, you name it. PTSD, too." He elaborated. And Jack understood. The Crisis was a long and hard fight, and even after there were times when he just didn't want to get up in the morning. "I'll be forever grateful to my... good friend for his support. I'd done the same for him."

Jack sighed softly. "I don't exactly have any friends right now."

"Oh?" The man raised an eyebrow, "Surely a young man like yourself has someone to talk to?"

"We're... not talking."

Was that a smile? "Maybe you should try again then, you never know."

"It's not a good idea..."

The man was suddenly serious, pinning him with a look that was strangely familiar. "You might regret it later if you don't say anything soon. Talk to him, trust in him. Gabriel will listen to you."

Jack was looking at his hands, his ankles crossed under the wood. A cool breeze kissed his cheek as he thought. "Maybe." He mumbled, already imagining the fury that'd rain down on him. Gabe wasn't always--- _what_? He shot up to his feet. "Wait a second! How did - ?"

The man was gone. Jack stared at the spot in bewilderment. He looked around the area, but there was no sign of him.

_What the shit? Am I seeing stuff now?_ Unnerved further, he left the park in a mild jog.

  
Jack leaned against the door after closing it, just staring at the wood. He locked it as an afterthought. At this rate, he's certain his nerves were going to jump right out of his skin with all this stress. Jesus.

He shoved off and sat back onto the still messy sheets from the morning, resting his head once more in his hands.

A goddamn mess was what he was, not matter what that... the guy said. Maybe that blast had knocked some screws loose. Or something. He rubbed his hands down his face and sighed. No matter. He had to get back together. A few days to recollect himself can't hurt.

He stood and went and fished for some food. Though what he had left was more like a snack than anything. A few packets of bars and some water were all that he'd been able to grab at the time.

As he ate, Jack went and turned on the news, the volume on low. He paced in front of the screen, falling into a routine as he listened to the reporter's drone on about this, that, and the other. Background noise was helpful.

_Alright, alright. Lay low here, then leave. Priority should be with equipment for now..._ He turned, F _ood and such can wait for a few days. Ammo. Field dressings... He'd lost pretty much everything, so he'd have to go from the ground up. Again. I think I left some things stashed back in my last hideout._

_Knock. Knock._

Jack halted mid-step. Great, what now. He stayed where he was before another knock came and he slowly walked to the door, making as little noise as possible as he pressed an ear to the wood. There was some muttering, and another fist met the door. His eyebrows drew together. _Probably just one person,_ he thought.

The knob twisted and he almost lurched back. There was a scratching noise... were they honestly picking the lock? Jack moved to the far side of the door, behind. It was only a few moments later that the door swung open.

_How the hell_... Jack really wanted to know how _Gabriel Reyes_ kept on appearing in front of him. Holding his breath, he watched the man walk further into the room closing the door without a backward glance, not seeing him crouched behind it. He steeled himself.

"You have some explaining to do, querido," Gabriel grumbled arms crossed, not facing him. The man's shoulders were tense, and the rest of him screamed _'I'm pissed at you'._ Considering what he's done, he wasn't surprised at all.

Jack straightened, eyes downcast. "How did you find me?"

"I **know** you." Gabriel replied, shrugging, "I also shadowed you while you were running back." That really didn't answer his question, but Jack knew that he'd been far from subtle on the way back.

He still wasn't sure what'd happened back there.

"Gabriel... I - " Jack started, but the man turned... and decked him in the jaw. The blow sent him reeling, his lip split. He rubbed away the blood with the back of his hand. "Okay... I deserved that one."

"What you deserve a good ass kicking." Gabe hissed, grabbing the collar of his shirt. "You made us all think you were dead. You made **_me_** think you were dead. For an entire year while you went off and played vigilante."

"I know, I know." Jack gulped, hands curling around those at his throat. The old man's words crawl back to the forefront of his mind. What did he really have to lose right now? "I'll explain myself, just... listen okay?"

"If you think a half-assed - "

"Gabriel! For gods sake, _Overwatch is compromised, you idiot!_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so, I may have started another fic in drafts, and it may already be taking up some of my time. Updates for this fic might slow a bit, but don't you worry, I'm invested in this till the end. ;D


	9. All That We Fought For, Nothing. I'm Sorry.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They talk. That's it.

Gabriel's eyebrows drew together as he turned over the words in his mind. His grip on Jack slackening. The younger of the two gently pried his shirt free and but made no further move. He hoped Gabe would at least listen to that. "I mean it. Badly." He continued clinically. sighing. "Talon or whatever other group is also behind it, has its claws in our work. In our people."

"They... had you killed?"

"No. No that was me." Jack looked away from his friend and went to sit on the bed, patting the space next to him. "This is gonna be a long one." Gabe looked dubious but nonetheless, took a seat beside him. He hoped that it meant he was willing to listen.

"Why?" Gabriel demanded. "Why couldn't you have come to me a year ago? Didn't trust me?"

"It wasn't that. I couldn't trust anyone. Not after what I saw. God, I don't know how I couldn't see it before." Jack shook his head. "They've been watching us, noting our schedules, times and routines.

I noticed people watching me first, a few months before. They looked like they were examining me, looking for my weaknesses. Like I was their enemy. I know that look, after all.

It was in your department, where I found more evidence. I thought at first it was nothing. Some people just didn't like me, and I knew that. I was going to dismiss it but then I found that open computer." He shivered, recalling all the data stored. On him, on Gabriel, Ana, Angela, Reinhardt... All of them labeled as threats. And assets if... _persuaded_.

And he thought Blackwatch was doing questionable things. Talon had taken their tactics and twisted them.

Gabriel thankfully saved him from further thought. "What was on it, Jack?"

He rubbed his face. "Everything from times perfect for planting bombs or bugs, to notes on what manipulation has worked what hasn't, how many have joined them willing or unwilling. They had information on every mission, places where they could make things... hazy." Jack's hands moved to his hair, which probably would be going gray in a year or so. "It was all so carefully constructed, methodical. I didn't see it until it was too late to do anything on the inside."

"So you went and faked your death." Gabriel crossed his arms, hands fisted in his hoodie. But Jack didn't know if it was anger or otherwise now. "Instead of, you know, sayin' something."

"Would you have listened to me then?" Jack countered, bitingly. His friend sagged, and that was enough of a negative to him. But he doesn't blame him, not at all.

"Still, offing yourself seems like an extreme."

"It's what they wanted."

"Wait, what?" Gabriel grabbed his shoulder, "But you said... unless they were just planning."

Jack nodded, "Planning, yes. Nothing definitive."

"Then..?"

"I thought, at the time, I'd just give them what they want early. Throw them off, you know? So when the next mission came up, I made it look like I was KIA. I hated that I had to crush my visor, though, I liked that thing." Jack sighed, reaching up to touch the scarring on his face. He felt Gabriel's eyes on the movement. "I didn't come out unscathed either."

Warm hands joined his, he jumped only a little at the gentle fingers moving along the scar tissue, around the faded lines marring his features. Gabriel trailed along the long one, going from the top of one eye to the bottom of the other. A jagged line. He left the one on his lips alone. "Guess not." The man let his hand drop, then he chuckled. "But you are still lookin' pretty as always, blondie."

Jack sputtered, his face tinged pink, "Shut up." His friend grinned, slinging an arm over Jack's shoulder, as though nothing had happened a year ago. He let himself he pulled into an embrace, "Didn't much take you for the sappy type," He mumbled the counter into Gabriel's shirt.

"Yeah, well, don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold you know."

"It would be a travesty." He hummed in agreement.

They fell into a comfortable silence, both simply glad to have the other there, in arms reach after a long, long year of separation and pain. Jack knew he was forgiven for the moment, but his actions wouldn't be forgotten.

He was fine with that.

He missed this man.

  
Some time later, after they had parted and straightened themselves, they just talked. And talked. About Overwatch, about Jack's year as Soldier: 76. Both topics were a little strained, but Jack got what he needed to say. And Gabriel got to his piece as well, though his was more strongly worded than the blonds. 

Not that Jack's wasn't either.

The sun had set by that time, the last bits of light just barely peeking over the horizon. The Strike-Commander had decided he'd be staying the night, and promptly took off his combat boots.

" - I'm just saying," Gabriel was reclined on the bed, head propped up with an arm on the pillows, his ankles crossed at the foot of the mattress. "I think I like your office better. Nice view."

Jack, however, was tugging on some layers as he walked out of the bathroom, having gone to clean up. He smoothed out the sleeves on his shirt, and snorted, "How about the mountain of paperwork?"

Gabe shrugged, "What paperwork?"

" _Please tell me you didn't_ \- "

"Don't worry, boy scout, I did your homework for you."

Jack huffed at the nickname and crawled into the other side of the bed, letting his head hit the pillow with a 'poof'. He checked the time before relaxing completely. He yawned, covering his mouth in vain to stifle it. Blue eyes closed and he let his head fall to the side. He trusted Gabriel enough to not to turn around and stab him in the back while they slept.

He felt Gabriel shift after a few minutes, and then there was an arm around his waist and a body pressed against his back.

Jack smiled just a little as he drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said before, updates might be delayed jsyk. Also we're coming to the conclusion of this fic specifically. I'll be making a series of other drabbles for this universe.


	10. What Does The Future Hold?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to a close.

Gabriel ended up being woken by Jack, who thought his mussed up curls were rather cute when mixed with the disgruntled look he was given. It was early even by military standards, but Jack thought it would be best to get started sooner than later. They both could catch some sleep later on. His friend agreed and pulled himself out of bed and dressed back up after him.

Jack ignored the chuckle Gabriel tried to muffle as he zipped up his jacket. "What?"

"Still think you look ridiculous."

"Says the man who wears a hat 24/7."

"Hey, at least it matches." Gabriel mocked without any heat, looking Jack up and down. Jack only huffed, rolling his eyes skyward.

"Motorcycle jackets aren't really meant to be stylish." He countered, giving into the friendly banter. "It's _protective_ ," Gabriel muttered something back under his breath in Spanish, too quick for Jack to catch. He shrugged it off and finished lacing his boots up. His lips pursed in thought.

Now, what?

That was the million dollar question, wasn't it? What do they do, or what does _he_ do now? He can't up and leave again---he very much doubted he'd be able to get anywhere without Gabriel being right on his ass. He fidgeted as his friend moved around the small room.

Jack knew he couldn't go back to Overwatch. He's dead. Er, well, declared dead by the very same organization. And he needed it to stay that way, he was far from done with rooting out the bad eggs in said place.

Something was still troubling Gabriel though, Jack could see the subtle clues from miles away. The way his eyebrows furrow just slightly, the corner of his lips turning down. He hated that he'd gone and put his friend in this situation, speaking, and now working with, a supposedly dead man, whom Gabriel had mourned for. Buried.

What was his life now? _Lord_.

He played with his fingers. He pushed doubt away, but it still left anxiety behind. What were they gonna do? Maybe that's what's on Gabriel's mind too. Jack sighed, grabbing his gloves and pulling them on if only to break silence.

"You can't linger for too long," He spoke, voice even but tinged with regret.

Gabriel stopped and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know, boy scout. If I hadn't known better, I'd say you are trying to get rid of me."

"Sure, sure."

* * *

 

And by the time Jack had secured his things and was suited up for moving on out---everything fitting into his worn duffle and rifle stretched on the bed, he nearly forgot Gabe was there. Until a hand found his shoulder. He raised an eyebrow as he tugged the seals closed, he was handed a comm. "Isn't this yours?" He asked, turning it over.

Gabriel shook his head, letting go and crossing his arms. "Spare. I'm giving it to you."

"These things are tracked, I can't take one. _Especially_ one of yours!"

"Untraceable."

He treated Gabe with a Look. But even so, if this one was untraceable, what was...? _Oh of course._ He dropped his gaze and his lips quirked up on one side. "Teams a team, huh?"

"Of course. Your dumb ass is gonna need my help."

"I've been doing fi---"

"Faked your death." Gabriel countered.

"...Point taken. How'd'ya figure this?"

The man shrugged, smirking. "The only way I see it is, we do this together, _comprende?_ There's gotta be some things I can do on the inside, while you run around playing hero."

"I do have a drive that has my compiled information. More proof, if you need it." Jack offered, secretly glad he's not so much alone anymore. He remembered once upon a time that someone had said that he does terrible when alone. Towards himself, anyway. He's not that good at taking care of himself apparently.

"I would like some more solid info, yeah, no offense Jack but this shitstorm needs clearing up."

Offense not taken, Jack fished out the small black device from his bag, just a bit larger than the palm of his hand. Unassuming and easily hidden. Perfect for him and his duty. This was one of four. Maybe he's become a little paranoid in that regard, he always seemed to need multiples. He held it out. "All yours, Gabi."

"I _hate_ that stupid nickname," Gabriel grumbled, taking it from his hands. "Remind me to punch McCree."

"Sure, as long as you can keep him from saying anything."

"That's easy,"

"No threatening." He warned out of habit.

A grin. "Yeah, yeah. Jesse's a good kid, Jack, he won't."

"I should hope so, you've practically adopted the man."

"Shush," Gabriel said, shrugging off the comment. "I just helped him along, ' _kay_?"

"Well. That's a given, Gabe." Jack chuckled.

He loitered around for a second before creating some distance between them. Ready as he was to get moving again, Jack was a slightly reluctant to make the first exit. He had hope good would come out of this. That he hadn't made the mistake of trusting his friend.

The visor he wore was the last thing to go on. As he secured it, it flickered to life and he took a few seconds to adjust to the change in vision. He hauled up his bag and strapped it to his back. Lastly, his rifle was gently taken from the bed.

Gabriel gave a low whistle at the sight. "Guess this is goodbye for now, huh."

"Yeah." Jack murmured back. "Doubt I could get rid of you anyhow right?"

"Mhm. Get goin' soldier boy, I'll contact you later." Gabe smiled, just the edges seemed tight.

Before he even opened the door to go, he glanced back. It wasn't going to be easy, and he knew that now, it would be even less so. He and Gabriel had _a lot_ of talks still left to do. Both about Overwatch and their relationship.

He only hoped that what they built wouldn't crumble around them.

The door closed with a decisive click.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long. I've been having trouble getting the muse to write at all as of late.


	11. Epilogue: Secrets.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How this all came to be...

"You still think we did the right thing, Gabe?" Soldier: 76 asked his partner as they stood side by side, hands clasped loosely as they watched the sun fall behind the horizon.

"Who knows," The other grumbled back, "It's not like we can do anything about it now."

"I'm still surprised you managed to get into the HQ."

Gabriel points to himself. " _Hello_. Smoke in, smoke out. Easy." Jack chuckled, leaning onto the man's shoulder. "And I _was_ Blackwatch."

"You also had to make sure my younger self saw it."

"You know, he--- _you_ looked so... shiny. I'd almost forgotten." Gabriel murmured, resting his head on the blonds'. "Far cry from your old ass."

"Well then. Screw you."

"Please do."

" _Reyes_."

"Love you, Jack."

"... Mm. I don't know where I'd be without you." Jack muttered, a smile stretching across his features.

Gabriel mirrored him. "Well. We're in this together now. You're stuck with me."

"I can live with that, I think."

* * *

 

_One would always follow the other._

_Until the very end._

_But does this apply to them?_

_Only Time will tell..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you, everyone for sticking with this story, I'm honored so many of you liked it! I might do more in this verse, but no promises! ^_^;


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